


Your Man

by MelodiByrd



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodiByrd/pseuds/MelodiByrd
Summary: What happens when Draco and Harry are left alone in their new apartment while a sweet country song plays? Fun times. I placed this a post-Hogwarts, and it's non-epilogue compliant. This fic is essentially an excuse for smut. I personally believe that Harry would love country, if nothing else than to kind-of piss Draco off, and that he would introduce his pureblooded bf to muggle-contraptions. I got the idea awhile ago, and I posted it on Fanfiction.com (Under MelodyByrd). Obviously all characters belong to J.K.R. and all song lyrics from "Your Man" to Josh Turner.





	Your Man

Baby, lock the doors and turn the lights down low  
Put some music on that's soft and slow  
Baby, we ain't got no place to go  
I hope you understand

Josh Turner’s song “Your Man” floats through the car speakers. Ron starts humming along in the driver’s seat. Not necessarily well, but Hermione still giggles from the back when Ron looks at her through the rearview mirror. Harry blushes as soon as he hears the chords. He lurches forward and quickly changes the radio station.  
“Harry! Come on! I liked that song. Why’d you change it?” Ron protests, and Harry falters. How in the world was he going to justify that dramatic response?  
“I, um, don’t like country music.” That was false. Everyone knew it. Even if his best friends from first year and on didn’t know him well enough to spot in a pitch black room when he was lying, Harry is, unless dire circumstances demand it, a terrible liar. Plus he listens to it all the time.  
“Harry, why would you change the song? It’s really quite cute.” Hermione leans forward with a slight frown on her face. Harry’s flush deepens. There’s no way I will ever tell them the truth.  
“I… erm… I heard it recently and now I’m sick of it.” Both Ron and Hermione know he’s lying, but they also know when pressuring him to an answer is only going to push Harry further into his shell. Well, almost. Hermione makes one last statement.  
“Harry, we all know that’s not true, and I wish you would tell us the real reason; however, I’ll drop it for now.” Ron just nods in solidarity. Both Ron and Hermione can see that Harry- who’s in the passenger seat -has relaxed immensely, although, they notice that Harry has still retained his blush. The three are in the car on the way home from school and work. Ron has work, while Harry and Hermione both have school.  
For Hermione it was a no brainer. After a surprisingly uneventful eighth year, Hermione knew she still wanted to work in the ministry, but she also felt as though she should get some muggle schooling as well. If nothing else, to honor her parents’ memories. People always did call her the “Brightest Witch of her Age” unfortunately this time it backfired. Ron still supported her after learning the devastating truth: Hermione’s parents are no longer her parents.  
Ron knew that while not he is not stupid, he is also not “academically inclined” as Hermione so kindly put it one day. He didn’t mind though. He went to work for Fred and George at the joke shop. They are doing so well after the fall of “He Who Must Not Be Named” that they had to expand to an additional store front. During the final battle the wall that almost collapsed on Fred crushed Percy instead. Everyone in the Weasley family feels the loss. They all have survivor's guilt; Fred most of all. Harry was the only one of the golden trio who had a somewhat interesting eighth year. Not so surprising on that front.  
Harry came back using the Hogwarts Express. It was hard, so hard. So many memories, good and bad, sprinkled throughout the whole train. Sitting with Ron, finding Remus, and meeting Hermione. There was also the fighting between Crookshanks and Scabbers, getting smashed in the face from one Draco Malfoy, and feeling the first brush of a Dementor. Those weren’t as pleasant.  
After the bittersweet train ride, Harry finally arrived at Hogwarts. Before Harry was even able to enter the great hall, Malfoy popped in front of him. He shoves his hand out in the space between them, a mockery of the infamous first year handshake.  
“Potter: I want to clear the air. I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I am fully pre-” Draco wasn’t even able to finish before Harry shook his hand.  
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Draco blinked and stayed as still as a statue. A few seconds later Draco started to form words. No sound. He finally took a deep breath.  
“You ruined my apology, you wanker.” The air was tense as more students happened to be gathered around.  
“I know. Friends?” Draco was not expecting this. Draco was expecting months of groveling and having his apology thrown in his face. Worthless. Of course perfect Potter had to be the bigger man. Draco internally chuckles. Well, I highly doubt that to be true.  
The acceptance of the handshake was a widely spread tale and each telling become more awesome than the next. Not accurate. Not at all, but certainly entertaining as Malfoy heard each rumor become more fearsome than the next. When the first eight year lesson occurred, where Malfoy and Potter partnered, it was spread faster than a virgin on her wedding night. Months passed and a friendship grew. Several tedious months after that the spark of hatred changed. Love and hate always did share a line.  
After that final, postponed year of Hogwarts where many tears were shed, Harry still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Well that’s not exactly true. He knew what he didn’t want to do. Harry didn’t want to be an auror. He, at first, thought it to be perfect for him. Fighting off bad guys? He might know how to do that. Now, with no need to fight everyone in the world, as it always seemed, he found that more fighting was the last thing he wanted. He had two serious ideas of what he might want to do. One of them was to be a Healer.  
With all the time spent in the infirmary Harry had actually grown quite a knack for knowing what to do in certain situations. He also knows how to stay calm in a crisis. He would still be helping people as well. He could be saving lives instead of destroying them. He can’t save his own family, Sirius, Remus, his own parents, but he could have some other little boys’ family and that would make Harry feel like there’s some light in the world after all.  
The second career choice that he would love is teaching. Especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. He would be fighting, but only with a student or parent over what grade they should have received. He could even stay at Hogwarts. His first home. The first place he felt like he belonged. The first place he felt like something other than a bother or an inconvenience. He could help cultivate better relations between the houses and the different blood types.  
There was only one "for-sure" thing he knew. He was going to spend the rest of his life with Draco. Harry spoke with Hermione and knew she was going to go to muggle college. He decided that, that wasn’t a bad idea and agreed to go as well. Now to the present when Harry becomes aroused by a Josh Turner song. I am so glad I have my bag on my lap. Harry desperately thinks. Only a few more turns then we’ll be at our flat. “Our” being the flat shared by Draco and he. Harry reminisces about how he was conditioned to be sexually excited by this song. It all started when Harry turned on the radio to a country station.

 

Only a few bars waver out until Draco gracefully levitates the radio and smashes it into the wall.  
“Heeeey! I liked that radio. If you didn’t like that station all you had to do was ask, and I would have changed it.” Harry glares at Draco who is at his leisure on the couch. The only piece of furniture in their new flat. Harry’s grimace quickly turns into a shy smile that’s all blushes and giggles. Draco watches the change with rapt attention. He gets up from his rest and saunters over to Harry. He pulls him close, and Harry’s breath hitches. It doesn’t matter how many times they kiss it still feels like the first time, every time.  
“What’s got you so happy? Just remembered that you’re going to do all the cooking from now on? I know you like being a chef, and all, but that’s a bit excessive.” Draco whispers even though they are the only ones in the room. The whispers creates an ambiance that the words themselves negate. The slightly provocative atmosphere diminishes into obscurity, and Harry gently pushes away.  
“I hope you that you know that you will be doing some cooking. What will you do if I’m out with Hermione and Ron?” Draco pouts at the lack of Harry in his arms. He folds them together and turns to watch Harry walk away.  
“I will go to a restaurant, like a civilized person.” Harry rolls his eyes at the insinuation, knowing that his loving boyfriend was just trying to get a rise out of him. Draco has told him that, when angry, he looks, “undeniably sexy” to pull a direct quote.  
“Just for argument’s sake, let’s say that you can’t go to a restaurant. Then what?” Harry starts to putter about the room to try to get some work done.  
“I would call for a house elf from the manor.” The superiority can be heard from across the room. Harry takes a breath to counter that with several rebuttals (they have discussed the topic of house elves. Draco, obviously pro, while Harry is undecided. The main reason is because of the strength of Hermione’s opinion: a point that made Draco sleep by himself for two nights). He stops before even speaking, knowing that it will boil down to what’s right and wrong on which they completely disagree.  
“Just… just don’t let Hermione catch you, alright?” Draco preens knowing he won his this fight. “Either way,” Harry continues in a frustrated and demanding voice, “You are going to get me a new radio. Now. I won’t be working, by myself I might add, without music.” Were he looking at Draco he might have noticed that his pupils dilated ever so slightly, but alas, he wasn’t.  
“Okay.” Harry was startled by the distinct sound of apparition, but even more so by the sound of Draco agreeing so readily. That never happens. Well, not never. Harry amends with a chagrined smile. Harry shrugs and goes back to work humming quietly to himself. A total of twenty minutes pass when Draco pops back, successful in his mission. They plug the radio in and Harry switches it to country again.  
“You said I could change it,” Draco accuses.  
“No. I said if you asked, nicely, neither of which you did.” Draco grumbles and settles back on the couch. “Good. Sleep. Maybe you’ll wake up on the right side of bed.” Many similar occurrences happen within the next few months to where it gets to the point that if Draco were to hear the radio on that damned station then it was a fifty-fifty chance that he would recognize it. Draco denies it, but Harry know that Draco secretly likes country music now. One time Harry caught him red handed listening to it on his own. Draco’s feeble response was that Harry indoctrinated him. Harry promptly rolled his eyes at that one.  
One day (The special day that started all this) Harry came home from an especially difficult day of classes.  
“One thing that I kind of miss about Hogwarts is that, while in general it didn’t happen, if I tried hard I could pull the, ‘I’m Harry Potter, must I actually do this assignment?’ card and it would have at least a chance of working. Not at this college.” Draco walks out of the bedroom looking delightfully rumpled and wearing only a loosely tied bathrobe. He listens to Harry while moving towards him and hugging him.  
“Isn’t that the exact reason you choose this school compared to others?” counters Draco.  
“Yes, I know, but that doesn’t… um… doesn- do you hear that?” Harry carefully listens and, “Yes! there’s music! I KNEW it! I knew you liked country! I have succeeded!” Harry quickly turns smug and smirks wickedly. Draco snakes his right hand around Harry’s neck and roughly kisses him. His left hand works its way around Harry’s back between his shirt and knapsack. Harry lets his bag fall to the floor, grabs Draco, and pulls him tightly to himself. Tongues caress while teeth nip. By the time they separate they are breathing harshly and fully aroused.  
“We should move this to a different venue, shouldn’t we?” Draco’s voice is much deeper than normal. A subsonic level that only occurs in the foreplay before sex. They are kissing, caressing, and bumping into objects as they are backing into the room. The closer to the bedroom they get the clearer the song and words become.

I’ve been thinking ‘bout this all day long  
Never had feelings quite this strong  
I can't believe how much it turns me on  
Just to be your man

Draco groans, “Yes, I know this one, and it is perfect.” He kisses harry with a passionate ferocity and Harry responses tenfold. Draco slips his hand under his lover’s shirt. Harry’s back is warm and smooth. Like always. Draco looks deep into Harry’s eyes. Oh yes. He thinks, Harry you’ve no inkling how much just your voice can affect me. Little did Draco know that Harry was thinking something similar. And, to clarify, both boys were thinking about this all day long. What? They’re twenty year old males deeply in love with each other. What did you expect?

There's no hurry, don't you worry  
We can take our time  
Come a little closer, let's go over  
What I had in mind

Harry twiddles with the tie on Draco’s- actually it’s Harry’s, but that’s besides the point -robe. Yes, they have no time constraints, but Harry wants Draco now. On the other hand, he loves to tease Draco. Wait until the last second to make him cum. Watch his face as he loses his perfect self control. That’s usually what pushes him over. That look of ecstasy, pure ecstasy, that only he, Harry, can give.  
“Harry. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t you dare.” Draco tries to make it a command, but it’s a tad too breathy. Harry chuckles, but compiles and unties the apparently now joint-custody bathrobe and watches it fall to the floor. For a full five seconds he stares at the piled piece of clothing. “Harry, Love, my face is up here, however, if you want to look lower you have my permission. You’ll still have to look higher than where you are currently looking, but I digress.” The whole speech is once again striving, but falling just short of anything more than needy, desperate. It does knock Harry out of his trance and he looks up. Still slow, because, like the song said, there’s time.  
First Harry looks at Draco’s feet. Before Draco, Harry always thought that something as odd as feet could never be considered an aphrodisiac. That was before Draco. Harry roams over his calves and thighs. His breathing is speeding up. There are so many good memories between them. Harry has to skip over Draco’s groin. If he didn’t, Harry would simply suck him off causing this to go a whole lot faster than he would want to. Harry looks at Draco’s chest and scars. He has all of them memorised by now. The one on the right that actually peeks out of a shirt if you know where to look, and he does. The one on the far most left that has a slight curl to it. He loves them all and has made his peace with them. At first it was extremely difficult. He felt so much guilt. Draco’s hand on his chin tilting his face all the way until they are eye to eye shakes him out of his revere. Draco’s eyes are questioning and concerned. Harry response by a slow sensual, yet sweet kiss. Draco and Harry mirrors each other’s dreamy smile. 

Baby, lock the doors and turn the lights down low  
Put some music on that's soft and slow  
Baby, we ain't got no place to go  
I hope you understand

Draco loves how Harry always looks at him like he’s the only thing that matters. Like he’s the only thing on this earth, really. Draco response to the kiss that Harry instigated, but didn’t push for more. It will come in time. They both will. Harry moves down Draco’s neck brushing past that damned spot that makes him weak in the knees. Draco whimpers- not that he would ever admit to it -and Harry lovingly laves that spot. The world could be ending, Voldemort could have been resurrected, again, a true armageddon could have come and never would have Harry sped up. Draco knows this. He despises it. He loves it. He can never decide.  
Draco leans his head back and loudly moans when Harry finally, unfortunately moves lower. Not much. Just to his chest, but it’s enough. Draco holds his hand against Harry’s busy head in a silent command, “Don’t you move. Don’t you dare move.” Draco sighs when Harry moves to his nipple and tortures it between his teeth. Draco’s breathing, which was already fast, becomes erratic. Harry pulls away leaving a devastated Draco behind. Draco angrily mashes their faces together in revenge. Draco dominates the kiss and pulls Harry’s shirt over his head. It’s thrown somewhere over to the right, but right now it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Harry is almost fully dressed while Draco is completely naked. That’s not quite fair.  
Draco turns the tables and starts to kiss and mark his boyfriend’s golden skin, ‘cause damn him if he thinks he can get away with that. Draco runs his hand through Harry’s messy hair making it even more of a rat’s nest, and Harry groans with delight. Both men are now in the bedroom and Draco roughly pushes Harry onto the bed. Draco stares at Harry. Harry is leaning on his forearms with his face towards Draco. Harry’s legs are spread apart in the way he knows that Draco know drives him crazy. Draco sees Harry with too much clothing still. He’ll remedy that. Draco crawls slowly over to him and watches as Harry gulps. The movement of his Adam’s apple is strangely errotic. Well, it’s not as strange when you consider the fact that Draco has seen that same movement with entirely different circumstances behind it. Mainly his cock buried deep into his love’s esophagus. That is one of the most tantalizing views he has ever seen. The best one, by far, is when he pulls out of Harry after a round of sex, whether love making or fucking. Seeing his cum slipping, dripping, and sliding out with him and after he has fully extricated himself is the most arousing scene. Ever. 

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long  
Never felt a feeling quite this strong  
I can't believe how much it turns me on  
Just to be your man

Harry can hardly breath. His pants are so tight it feels as though his lungs can’t expand. Seeing Draco look at him that way. It’s unbelievable. Harry unpops the button on his pants and pulls down the zipper. Painfully slow. The only thing keeping him from ripping off all articles of clothing and just jerking himself off in front of Draco- he has done that and, wow, -is the fact that as much as it is killing him, Draco is feeling so much worse. Finally when he feels the end of the zipper he shimmies out of his jeans, sighing and moaning as some of the pressure releases.  
Now all that’s left is Harry’s underwear. Draco, by this time, hovers over Harry. Harry feels Draco’s palm come into contact with his throbbing dick over the boxers. Harry has never dealt away his boxers faster after that. Now they are in an equal state of undress. Harry surges forward and pushes Draco down. He knows he likes that. Harry straddles Draco and he can see that Draco wants him. Badly. Harry can also feel it. Draco bucks his hips up as a way to possibly gain friction. Harry has to put a stop to that, now doesn’t he?  
“Draco. Stop,” Harry commands. Draco whines, but ceases. “Draco. Tell me what you want.”  
Draco looks straight into Harry’s eyes, “You. I want you. I- I- I want you in me. Deep. Hard. Now.” Harry raises his eyebrows at the last portion, and a weak please meets his ears. Harry internally shrugs. Coming from Draco, that’s the equivalent of five paragraph of begging.  
“Good. That’s a good answer. I want to know if you want anything extra. Any toys? Handcuffs? Cock ring? Paddle? I know you like the last one.” Draco squirms under Harry at each mention of a different toy.  
“No. Just you. Just me. Together.” he’s panting heavily and rutting against Harry who’s still on top.  
“Not even lube? My, my. You do like it rough don’t you? A little deviant. Dare I say a masochist.” Draco huffs and wiggles a hand around to Harry’s arse and lightly strokes. 

Ain't nobody ever love nobody  
The way that I love you  
We're alone now  
You don't know how long I've wanted to

“Yes, lube. I just want you in me.” Draco states. (We’ll let him believe that it wasn’t breathy). Draco can see Harry’s internal struggle. Listen to him and prep him, or take his own sweet time. Draco severely hopes that it will be the first and not the second and he know that the stroking will make the decision exponentially more in his favor. He hears Harry whisper the summoning spell and the clatter of objects being moved. Harry moves further down. The sound of a cap opening makes Draco unreasonably excited. There’s actually an extremely embarrassing story to go along with that, but that’s for another time. Right now Harry’s about to fuck Draco’s brains out and it couldn’t be better. Unless it happened now. Draco has learned, from past experience, that saying that will only make Harry go slower.  
The sound of lube being squirted out of the bottle and the scent of crisp dawn in the woods fills the room. That scent alone makes Draco hard. (Another embarrassing story to go with that). Harry wordlessly pushes a dry finger in. Draco loves it. He is a masochist. He knows it. Harry isn’t entirely comfortable with all of it, but that’s good. No boundaries are ever really pushed, but just in case they obviously have a series of codes and a safe word. In and out. In and out. Draco is going crazy. Harry knows exactly where his prostrate his. He’s avoiding it. Until Draco asks. Only then. Draco strong though. He can hold out.  
“Harry. Please. More.”  
“Please, what? More, what?”  
“Please touch and rub my prostate. Please finger fuck me. Please.” Draco can’t focus anymore. If he could he would have seen Harry shudder at the tone of Draco’s voice.

Lock the doors and turn the lights down low  
Put some music on that's soft and slow  
Baby, we ain't got no place to go  
I hope you understand

Harry grabs the lube then quickly puts a second, coated finger in. The lewd squelch turning him on more than he wants to admit. Harry brushes past Draco’s prostate every time. He makes god-damn sure. He caresses the inner sanctum that no one will touch. He just wants to make sure Draco knows that he is Harry’s and no one else's. Harry pulls his fingers out until just fingertips remain. Draco huffs in protest.  
“Who do you belong to?” Harry gruffly demands. Harry can tell that Draco is still conscious enough that there is an ever so slight resistance to “belonging” to anyone. He’ll have to change that. He rams his fingers back in as fast and as hard as possible. That action results in a high keening sound. Now they’re getting somewhere. “I repeat myself. To. Whom. Do. You. Belong?” Harry isn’t angry or upset when saying this. Just forceful. Harry doesn’t want to admit it, but he also sounds just a little desperate.  
“You. Only you. I’m yours.” Draco forces out through a pleasure-filled brain and body.  
“And I’m yours.” Harry responses. Draco’s reply had him filled with warmth. Harry slowly, adds in a third and last finger. A vast dichotomy from before, he gently and loving stretched Draco a little more. Draco’s loud moans and Harry’s quiet swears were one of the few sounds going on in the room.  
“Harry, please, can you please put your cock in. Please? I need it. I need you. My hole is prepped. Prepped just for you and you alone. It’s waiting now. Throbbing for you. Please.” The begging, as that is what it is, is unabashed and desperate. Harry still wants to check with Draco though, just to be safe.  
“Draco, are you sure. Are you ready?”  
“DEAR MERLIN’S LEFT BALL SAC, YES! JUST FUCK ME POTTER!” With those kind words ringing through Harry’s head he pulls his fingers out and uses them to line his aching cock to the needy hole. He pushes in a little. Then Harry waits. He waits for what seems eternity, but for Draco he would wait till his dick turns blue and falls off. That being said, it wasn’t long until Draco deemed himself ready and gave a very articulate, “Ugn, more.” Harry complies and pushed until he was fully immersed in Draco.  
“Draco, Baby, you feel so good wrapped around me like this. I never want this to end.” A chorus of yes and oh’s echo Harry’s sentiment. He pulls all the way out then slams back in, hitting Draco’s Prostates again. And again. And again.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long  
Never felt a feeling quite this strong  
I can't believe how much it turns me on  
Just to be your man

Draco has never felt this much pleasure. Granted he says this every time they have sex- which is often -but it feels that way. They both feel it coming. The climax is building and growing.  
Every whimper  
Every thrust.  
Every moan.  
Every sigh.  
Draco is close all he needs is a little push and he’s gone. He can tell by the way that Harry’s thrust are starting to become erratic that he’s on the precipice. He wants to hold hands and fall together. Draco puts a fumbling hand on his own member and cries in ecstasy at the double stimulation. Harry sees this and slaps his hand away.  
“Pleasuring you is my job.” Without another word he takes Draco’s place and roughly strokes Draco. Draco cums a whole two seconds later screaming and clenching around Harry. That is all Harry needs and suddenly he’s seeing a blinding white light that from the force of his orgasm. They stay there for awhile panting. Harry, after softening, slips out and Draco grunts. They lay together for awhile basking in the afterglow and love the feel for each other. The soft strands of a different country song in the background. The first one long gone, but will forever remain their they’re memories. They connect with this song.  
Harry is silent for a little while when he chuckles. Draco hmms in question,“I will never be able to hear this song without getting a hard-on now, thanks, Dray.”  
Draco smirks in response, “No problem, Har. Anything to make you rarin’ to go.” They cuddle together and fall asleep. Maybe tomorrow they will listen to a different station. Pop songs won’t be as bad, right?  
I can't believe how much it turns me on  
Just to be your man


End file.
